


Destiny

by Forlorn Kumquat (sara_wolfe)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/Forlorn%20Kumquat
Summary: John will always find a way to Atlantis, even if it takes a little while longer to get there.





	Destiny

“I want a venti caramel macchiato with soy milk, two extra shots, four pumps of chocolate, and lots of whipped cream.”

John bit back a groan, plastered a fake smile on his face, and turned his attention to the espresso machine behind him. Sometimes he couldn’t believe this was his life, now, slinging overpriced coffee for minimum wage, crappy tips, and no respect. He should have been flying a jet, not scrubbing tables and taking out the trash - if he’d only obeyed orders, but that would have meant leaving three good men in danger, and-

“Excuse me?” John was jolted out of his thoughts by a strident voice, and he craned his head around to see the well-dressed woman whose coffee he was making with her arms crossed over her chest, a scowl fixed firmly on her face. “Are you planning on fixing my coffee, or are you just going to stare at the machine all day?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” John said, and the woman huffed an impatient sigh, tapping her watch, pointedly. 

John fixed the woman’s coffee as fast as he could, presenting it to her with a flourish. He got a cold stare for his trouble, the woman whipping her debit card out of her wallet and snatching the receipt from his hand as soon as her payment went through. 

“You’re welcome!” John called after her, as she stalked out of the coffee shop. Turning his attention to the next customer in line, he forced a smile onto his face. “Welcome to Cosmic Coffee. What can I get for you?”

* * *

“Black coffee.”

John waited expectantly for the rest of the order, but the guy in front of him was staring intently at the tablet cradled in his arms, poking at the screen. After a couple of seconds of silence, the guy looked up at him. 

“Um, hello, coffee?”

“You really only want a black coffee?” John asked, and the guy sighed. 

“I knew I should have gone to the Starbucks down the street,” he griped. “Look, I don’t want any fancy crap, I just want coffee. What is so hard about that?”

“Nothing,” John told him. “In fact, this might be the easiest order I’ve had all week.”

“And yet I still don’t have my coffee,” the guy said, pointedly.

“One black coffee, coming right up,” John said. 

He poured the coffee into the biggest cup they had behind the counter - hey, the guy hadn’t actually bothered to tell him what size he wanted - and put it down on the counter. The guy, engrossed in his tablet again, slapped a twenty down on the counter and grabbed the coffee, taking a huge slug as he started to walk toward a table. 

“Hey, don’t you want your change?” John called out. 

“Keep it,” the guy said, waving a hand dismissively without looking back at John. 

John stared down at the twenty - a fifteen-dollar tip on a five-dollar cup of coffee - and then over at his new favorite customer. 

“I’m so glad you didn’t go to the Starbucks down the street,” he muttered.

* * *

The guy came in every morning for the next week. Always the same order, same generous tip, same abrupt attitude. And he always seemed to show up whenever John was working the counter. _Only_ seemed to show up whenever John was working, according to his coworkers. 

“I think the guy’s got a crush on you,” Bud told him. 

John rolled his eyes. “He does not have a crush on me,” he protested. “He’s just some guy who likes coffee a lot.”

“Then why does he come in right as we open, only to wait around half an hour until you start your shift?” Bud asked. 

“Because the one and only time I ordered black coffee from you,” came a new voice, “it tasted like roofing tar. At least the guy with the ears knows what he’s doing.”

“What’s wrong with my ears?” John wondered, plaintively, while Bud sputtered in the background. 

“Coffee, black,” the guy told him, and John rolled his eyes. 

“I think I have your order memorized by now,” he said. 

“Then where’s my coffee?” came the retort. 

“You know, you’d be a pain in the ass if you weren’t such a good tipper,” John muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” the guy told him, when John put his coffee down on the counter. 

Instead of his usual twenty, though, he handed over a debit card. _M. Rodney McKay_ was embossed along the bottom of the card. 

“Rodney McKay, huh?” John mused, as he ran the debit card through the reader on the side of his register. “What’s the M stand for?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” McKay replied, scrawling his signature across the bottom of the receipt. “Where’s my coffee?”

“One black coffee,” John told him. “Bitter, just like you.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” McKay retorted, and John grinned at him. 

“I think I’m hilarious,” he replied.

* * *

John watched McKay drop down in a seat at the nearest table, shoulders slumping in clear exhaustion. He had his tablet with him, along with a big bag and a stack of paper that had to be a good six inches thick. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hands shaking in a way that John had come to associate with caffeine withdrawal. 

Pouring McKay’s usual black coffee into the biggest cup he could find, John added a few packets of sugar, and grabbed a blueberry muffin out of the glass case on the counter. McKay looked like he needed a full meal and about ten hours’ sleep, but John figured this was the best he could do for the guy on short notice. 

“You look like hell,” he said, bluntly, putting the coffee and muffin in front of the other man. 

McKay jerked upright in his seat, almost falling out of the chair before John grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him back up. “Oh, um, I-” He started fumbling for his wallet, but John shook his head. 

“Nah, it’s on the house,” he told McKay. “Seriously, though, you look like crap. When’s the last time you slept?”

McKay blinked at him for so long that John thought he hadn’t heard him, and then, “I don’t know. What day is it?”

“…Wednesday,” John told him, and now he was seriously starting to get worried about the guy. 

McKay just shook his head. “That doesn’t really help,” he admitted. “I still don’t remember the last time I slept. I haven’t pulled all-nighters like this since college.”

“What are you even doing?” John asked, craning his head over to look at the papers McKay had strewn over the table. 

“Work stuff,” McKay said, evasively, covering the papers with his arm. “Top-secret work stuff.”

“You know, I used to be in the Air Force,” John told him. “I’m pretty good with top secret.”

“And you’re nosy,” McKay accused him. John laughed. 

“That, too,” he admitted.

Leaving McKay to his top-secret work stuff, John went back to the counter. He couldn’t help but notice the other man sticking around the cafe a lot longer than he usually did - usually he stayed only long enough for a couple quick cups of coffee, but he’d already been there for several hours and he showed no signs of budging from the table he’d claimed as his own.   
John kept him well-supplied with coffee and food throughout the day. McKay had pulled out his wallet at some point, and every time John stopped by his table, McKay had more money waiting for him. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve paid double for all the food you’ve eaten today,” John commented, when he put a turkey sandwich down on the table.

McKay took a huge bite of the sandwich, mumbling something through the bread and meat, and John waited patiently for him to swallow before he continued. 

“I don’t really need money where I’m going,” McKay repeated, after a second. 

John raised an eyebrow. “That’s dramatic,” he commented. “What’re you dying, or something?”

“What? No.” McKay scowled. “No, it’s a work thing.”

“More top-secret work stuff?” John teased him. 

“Something like that,” McKay replied. “Hey, watch my stuff for a second, would you?” Standing up from the table, he added, “And don’t touch anything.”

John honestly hadn’t been intending on touching anything - at least not until McKay told him not to. But, he always did have a hard time following orders. And it was just going to be a little peek inside the messenger bag on the table, just enough to tease McKay with when he came back. 

But then a round, smooth crystal ball about the size of his fist rolled out of the bag and toward the floor, and John’s first instinct was to catch it. It glowed as his fingers closed around the smooth surface, the light creeping up his arm and around his veins. John dropped the crystal in shock, watching it fall to the table with a soft thunk. 

“What the hell?” he muttered. 

“Hey, I thought I told you not to touch anything.” McKay shot him an annoyed glare as he grabbed for the handle of his messenger bag. “What’s that doing out?”

“It fell on the floor,” John explained, leaving out the part where he kind of helped it fall in the first place. 

“What?” McKay demanded, snatching at the crystal. “It didn’t break, did it?” 

“Not a scratch,” John assured him. 

McKay studied the crystal in his hand for a second, and then shot John a sidelong look. “Anything else happen?” he asked, a strange note in his voice. 

_‘You mean besides that thing lighting up like a disco ball when I touched it?’_ John thought, biting back what would have been a slightly hysterical laugh.   
“Nothing,” he lied.

* * *

_John twisted futilely against the ropes that held him fast to the chair. But there was no give in the skillfully-tied knots and he couldn’t move. His captor lounged against the wall across from him, watching his struggles with an amused smile on his face._

_“Tired yet, Doctor?” Kolya asked. “If you’re done, maybe we can have a conversation like civilized people?”_

_“This is what you call civilized?” John demanded. “Tying me to a chair?”_

_His eyes never leaving John, Kolya bent and pulled a long-bladed knife out of his boot. Moving slowly closer, he tapped the blade idly on the palm of his hand. “More civilized than any other kinds of conversations we could be having right now,” he amended, the pleasant tone never leaving his voice._

_John swallowed hard, the scar in his arm a visceral reminder of what happened when he pissed off Acastus Kolya. “What do you want?”_

_“I want Ladon Radim,” Kolya told him. “I know he claimed sanctuary on Atlantis. I also know Dr. Weir isn’t stupid enough to actually hide him on Atlantis. Therefore, I want you to tell me where you’ve hidden him.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John bluffed, eying the knife that Kolya was still toying with._

_“Don’t play dumb with me, Dr. McKay,” Kolya said. “Simply tell me where Radim is hiding, what planet you stashed him on, and I’ll let you go. Or, you could continue hiding him from me, and things will become very, very unpleasant for you.”_

_John clenched his jaw, biting back the instinctive retort that threatened to explode from him._

_“You’re a reasonable man, Dr. McKay,” Kolya continued. “Surely you can see the futility in hiding Radim from me, in protecting the man who once tried to bring down your beloved Atlantis. He helped me try to kill you and Dr. Weir. Why would you protect him?”_

_Because Elizabeth was expecting him to, not that John was about to tell Kolya that. Wasn’t going to tell him anything if he could help it._

_“This sudden spate of bravery doesn’t really suit you, Doctor,” Kolya said, when John remained silent. “I’d expect this from Ms. Emmagan, that Satedan, even Dr. Weir. But you? You’re a coward, Doctor, and cowards always crack. So why don’t you save yourself a lot of unnecessary pain and tell me where Radim is?”_

_John took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself for a future of unnecessary pain. “No.”_

_Kolya didn’t look angry at his refusal; if anything, he looked positively delighted. Dragging his knife along the exposed skin of John’s arm, he watched a thin line of blood well up in its path.  
“I was hoping you’d say that.”_

John bolted upright in bed, a scream dying in his throat. His right arm was tangled in the sheets and he unwound the thin material to see unmarked skin. No bloody scratch, no old scar tissue below his elbow. But he could still feel the knife in his arm. 

No, not his arm - _McKay’s_ arm. McKay of the biting wit, and the perpetually-black coffee, and the top-secret work. McKay who was being held captive somewhere, tortured. 

A second later, John shook his head, annoyed with himself. It was just a dream, just a stupid dream about some customer he hadn’t seen in over a year. Probably caused by the week-old Chinese food he’d found in the fridge last night. 

Still, it wasn’t the first time he’d had dreams like this. Dreams of places that shouldn’t exist, of people - aliens - that shouldn’t exist. And he couldn’t blame them all on bad Chinese food. 

_‘They’re just dreams,’_ John told himself, firmly. _‘Just a bunch of really weird dreams.’_

But John couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling that had fallen over him. And there was definitely no sleeping for the rest of the night.

* * *

“I ordered hot coffee!”

That was all the warning John had before the irate customer in front of him threw the cup he was holding. John instinctively hit the floor and the cup hit the wall behind him, exploding in a shower of hot liquid. Coffee rained down on him like the worst shower ever. And it was only nine-thirty. 

John climbed slowly back to his feet and grabbed a towel off the counter, futilely trying to get the coffee out of his hair. Reluctantly turning to face the customer, he fully expected to be confronted with self-righteous anger and a demand for the manager. Instead, the customer was dangling in mid-air, held up by a very large hand gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Make him put me down!” the man shrilled, and John looked behind him to see an absolute mountain of a man holding the guy in the air. 

“Yeah,” a familiar voice spoke up, “see, Ronon’s had nothing but Marines to hit for a solid week, and I think he’s getting frustrated with the lack of a decent challenge, and frankly I’m not about to try and make him do anything.” McKay stepped out from behind the mountain man and his unwilling captive, smiling so wide John was surprised his face didn’t crack. 

“Perhaps if you were to apologize to the man you threw the drink at,” a third, feminine voice added, as a woman came up beside McKay. John recognized her as Teyla, from his dreams. 

“I ordered hot coffee!” the man blustered, in a commendable - if frankly a little stupid - act of bravery. “I expect to get-”

“Apologize,” Ronon ordered, giving the man a shake that audibly rattled his teeth. 

“…sorry,” the man squeaked out, bolting for the exit as soon as Ronon dropped him to the floor.

“And you guys complain about my coffee habit,” McKay said, smirking as he watched the man run. “See, I told you life off the base was exciting.” Turning around, he added, “Hey, Sheppard-”

“You’re alive,” John blurted out, cutting him off. McKay blinked at the pronouncement. 

“…yes?” he ventured. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“You’re-” John started, again, helplessly. “I-” 

It had been over a week since he’d had that first dream of McKay being held hostage and tortured. And the next several nights after had been more of the same: McKay being tortured for information he refused to give his captor, being drained of the very life in his body, until - until John had woken up in a cold sweat two nights ago, heart pounding and hands shaking because he’d felt his own life fading away, had felt himself dying alone and in unmanageable pain. And even as he’d convinced himself that it was just a dream, that he was alive and safe in his bed, he’d known deep down that McKay was dead, that it had been the other man’s life he’d felt slipping away. 

“I saw you die,” he finally managed to force out. “I saw that thing, that Wraith, it killed you-” He was babbling, he knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

The trio in front of him had gone still, and then Teyla asked, quietly, “How do you know of the Wraith?”

“I-” John froze; he couldn’t tell them he’d dreamed about alien vampires. Could he?”

“Sheppard, what’s the hold-up?” Bud hollered from the back, and John startled as he realized that a line was forming behind McKay and his friends. 

“Take the counter,” John blurted out, still looking at McKay. “I’m taking my break.”

“Right now?” Bud demanded, as John pulled his apron off and came out from behind the counter, heading for the door. “Sheppard, get back here! Sheppard!”

John made it all the way out to the sidewalk before he stopped. “I think I just quit my job.”

“Not much of a job to lose,” McKay said, as Ronon pushed John firmly away from the door. “Given the quality of customers in there, I’d say you’re better off.”

“You were a customer in there,” John shot back. 

“And I know exactly how much of an asshole I can be,” Rodney told him. “Now, Barista Boy, you were telling us how you knew about the Wraith?”

* * *

When he finished his recitation, John fought the urge to squirm while the other three stared at him in silence. McKay was the first to speak. 

“I told you not to touch anything,” he snapped. 

Ronon rolled his eyes. “Really, McKay?” he drawled. “Out of all of that, that’s what you’re upset about?”

“I told him not to touch it,” McKay repeated, emphatically. “And if he’d listened to me, nothing would have happened and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation!”

“Um,” John tried to interject, “I don’t even really understand exactly what happened?”

“What are we going to do with him?” Teyla asked, not seeming to have heard John. “You said that the people of your world do not know of the Wraith-”

“They don’t,” McKay told her. “Which means that Sheppard is now a security risk.”

“You know,” John tried again, “I used to be Air Force, and I’m pretty good with the whole classified thing-”

“I don’t see that we have a choice,” McKay finished. “We’re going to have to sneak him onto the Mountain so I can run some experiments.”

“Whoa, no!” John yelped, finally loud enough that the group turned to pay attention to him, again. “I’m not going anywhere with you people so you can dissect me!”

“Who said anything about dissection?” McKay asked. 

“You did!” John insisted. 

“No, I said experiments,” McKay corrected. “Like blood tests, and testing your reaction to other Ancient devices, that sort of thing.”

“…oh,” John said, after a moment, starting to feel a little foolish.

“And we would never force you to come with us,” Teyla spoke up, smoothly. “No, Rodney,” she added, quickly, when McKay opened his mouth. “If Mr. Sheppard is to come with us, it must be his choice.”

“Fine,” McKay conceded, grumpily. “But, if you don’t come with us, and you get found out later, you’re going to get a visit from some people who aren’t nearly so nice as us. And they might actually dissect you.”

“Rodney!”

“Okay, maybe not,” McKay hastened to add, off Teyla’s chastising tone. “But, this would all work out best for everyone if you just came with us right now.”

“I can leave anytime I want?” John asked, cautiously. 

“We’re not really into kidnapping, so yeah,” McKay replied. 

“Got a problem, though,” Ronon spoke up, suddenly. “How’re you planning on getting some random civilian onto the base without Landry noticing?” When McKay glared at him, Ronon grinned and added, “Or Dr. Weir?”

“I have a plan,” McKay said, in the most unconvincing tone ever.

Ronon snorted out a laugh. “You’ve got nothing.”

“I will figure something out when we get there,” McKay said, firmly.

* * *

As it turned out, McKay’s idea of ‘figuring something out’ involved giving the young Marine at the guardhouse a disdainful look and muttering something about “impeding important scientific progress,” and the kid turned white and buzzed them through without a word, passing John a visitor’s badge without actually looking at McKay in the driver’s seat. McKay smirked as he drove deeper into the parking garage. 

“Rodney, you agreed to stop terrorizing the new recruits,” Teyla reprimanded him. 

“No, I promised to stop terrorizing our new recruits on Atlantis,” McKay told her. “I didn’t say anything about the newbies here on Earth.”

“Besides,” Ronon spoke up, “they could use some toughening up. If they can’t handle McKay, how’re they gonna handle the Ori?”

“I don’t know if I should be happy that you’re agreeing with me,” McKay said, as he maneuvered into a parking space, “or insulted because apparently you think I need to be handled.”

“Part of the ‘Welcome to Atlantis’ kit includes a Rodney McKay Survival Guide,” Ronon teased him. 

John had been relatively quiet on the drive over to Cheyenne Mountain, lost in his thoughts, but now he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Is someone ever going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Once we’re in the labs, yeah,” McKay told him. “Come on.”

He led the way to an elevator, swiping an ID card before hitting a button for level nineteen. John staggered slightly as the elevator suddenly started dropping beneath his feet, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

“You’re sure I’m not about to be dissected?” he joked, weakly, as the elevator continued moving underground. 

McKay just rolled his eyes, leading the way again when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open with a quiet swish. He stalked down the hallway, the few people they encountered jumping quickly out of his way, before he stopped at a gray metal door. Another swipe of his ID card had the door opening, and John slowly followed him into the room. Lab benches filled with a variety of equipment - some he recognized, others completely, utterly alien - lined the walls. 

“We’re gonna go beat up on some Marines,” Ronon said, from where he and Teyla were lingering in the doorway. 

“We’ll check back in with you in about an hour,” Teyla added, smiling at John. She must have seen the panicked look on John’s face as he thought about being left alone with Mad Scientist McKay because she added, “You will be all right?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” McKay said, waving her off. “Go have fun. Don’t break too many of the Marines; Landry gets pissy when half his teams end up in the infirmary, and then it ends up being my fault, somehow.”

“No promises,” Ronon said, and then he and Teyla were gone, shutting the door behind them. 

“Have a seat, Sheppard,” McKay told him, waving at a nearby stool. “And don’t touch anything until I tell you to.”

John was tempted to poke at the nearest thing on the table, just to be contrary, but that hadn’t worked out so well for him last time, so he resisted the urge. Instead, he carefully folded his hands in his lap and watched McKay type quickly on a laptop. They sat in silence for almost five minutes, long enough for John to think that McKay had actually forgotten about him, when McKay snatched something off the table and spun to face him, shoving the object into his hands. John looked down at the little hexagonal thing in his hands. 

“Think ‘on’,” he ordered, and John blinked in surprise. 

“Um,” he started, but McKay was watching him expectantly, no hint of a joke on his face. “Okay, on?” 

To his shock, the hexagon actually flickered briefly before going dark again. Emboldened, John tried again. “Turn on.” 

This time, the hexagon didn’t just flicker; it glowed with a soft, steady light. McKay grinned at him, plucking the hexagon out of his palm, and replacing it on the table, the light slowly dying as it left his hand. 

“Ancient night light,” McKay told him. “That one was pretty basic, but let’s try something a little harder.”

“Only if you start explaining some of this stuff,” John said. “What do you mean by Ancient, and you said Atlantis, earlier-”

“Think ‘on’ for me,” McKay ordered, instead of answering, handing John a flat piece of metal. 

Even as he took the metal, John opened his mouth to demand some answers, but McKay started before he could say anything. 

“Okay, so about ten years ago, a bunch of scientists found an alien device called a Stargate…”

* * *

“So, Applied Mathematics, huh?”

John looked up from the puzzle box McKay had handed him five minutes ago, hands stilling on the smooth, sliding partitions. “Say again?”

“You majored in Applied Mathematics at UCLA before you went to the Air Force Academy,” McKay said. 

“Yeah, but how did you know that?” John asked, before it dawned on him. “Wait a minute, are you checking up on me?”

McKay rolled his eyes. “I sneaked you into a top-secret military base filled to the brim with alien technology,” he pointed out. “Of course I’m checking up on you.”

“That’s fair,” John agreed, after a moment. “So, what would you have done if I wasn’t the fine, upstanding citizen that I am?” 

McKay shot him a small, humorless smile. “Ronon,” he said, simply, and John flashed back to seeing Ronon dangle his problem customer from one hand like he weighed nothing. 

“Yeah, that would have worked,” John told him. After a long moment, he ventured, “So, when you guys are out in the Pegasus Galaxy, it’s just you, Teyla, and Ronon?”

“Normally teams have four people,” McKay replied, “but I’ve been told that I’m difficult to work with, and Teyla and Ronon don’t have enough sense to abandon me for better teammates.”

“Because there are no better teammates,” Teyla spoke up, from the doorway, and John had the unexpected pleasure of watching McKay practically levitate out of his chair as he twisted around to face them. 

“Don’t do that!” McKay snapped, but there was no heat in his words and a small smile tugged at his lips. “What are you two doing back here? It hasn’t been an hour, yet.”

“Teyla called me,” a new voice spoke up in response, “and she told me what you did.”

McKay actually squirmed a bit in his seat, looking like a kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, as a dark-haired woman came into the lab behind Teyla and Ronon. “Elizabeth,” he greeted, a subdued tone in his voice. “Am I about to get the ‘you can’t take unauthorized civilians on the base,’ speech?”

“You can’t take unauthorized civilians on the base,” Elizabeth deadpanned. “Rodney, what were you thinking?”

“That it would be a bigger security risk to leave Sheppard to run around unsupervised after he touched an Ancient mind-melding device,” McKay told her. 

“Ancient mind-melding device?” Elizabeth asked. 

“When he touched it, it created some kind of psychic link between his mind and mine,” McKay replied. “He said he’s been having dreams where he could see what was happening in Atlantis?”

“Didn’t General O’Neill-” Elizabeth started, but McKay cut her off. 

“That device initiated a two-way link,” he said. “This was a one-way link. I haven’t gotten any kind of psychic feedback about Sheppard’s life.”

“Plus, it stopped when he-” John broke off, unable to make himself say the words.

“When McKay died,” Ronon finished for him, bluntly. “After Kolya killed him.”

“Which I’m still having nightmares about,” McKay said, with a shudder. “But, anyway, Sheppard’s got about a year’s worth of information about Atlantis swimming around in his head, and I figured it would be better if he was here, rather than out there. Plus,” he added, when Elizabeth still looked unconvinced, “he’s got the strongest expression of the ATA gene I’ve ever seen. Stronger than Carson, maybe even stronger than O’Neill.”

“That still doesn’t mean that you can kidnap him,” Elizabeth protested. 

“I’m not kidnapping anyone,” McKay protested. “He’s here of his own free will.”

“I really am,” John spoke up, helpfully. 

“And we could always use someone with Sheppard’s background here on the base,” McKay went on. “He’s ex-Air Force, he majored in Applied Mathematics at UCLA-”

“You can’t just keep him, Rodney,” Elizabeth protested. “He’s not a puppy who followed you home! No offense,” she added, glancing at John. 

“None taken,” he told her, with a shrug. “If I was in your place, I’d be suspicious of me, too.”

“Great,” McKay said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Well, while you two are over there worrying at each other, I’ll be over here making up documents to make John my new lab assistant.”

Elizabeth groaned, rubbing at her temples. “It’s like trying to control a hurricane,” she complained. 

John was about to commiserate when the door to the lab slammed open, a small, balding man on the other side. His eyes glanced over each of them before landing on Elizabeth. “Dr. Weir, Dr. McKay, I need you to come with me to the control room, immediately.”

“What’s wrong?” McKay demanded, as he and Elizabeth moved toward the door. 

“It’s Atlantis,” the man told them, and there was a moment of stillness before everyone was up and moving. 

“Hey, General Landry only wanted Weir and McKay,” the man protested. 

“If it’s about Atlantis, it involves all of us,” Ronon said, in a tone that left no room for argument. “Including you,” he added a moment later, and John felt himself being towed along with the group, Ronon’s hand wrapped securely around his bicep. 

Down the hallway, they boarded another elevator and dropped further underground. When it stopped, John trailed after everyone else as they trooped up a set of metal stairs to a small room overlooking the Stargate. McKay had shown him a picture, and John had his McKay-accented memories of Atlantis, but the real thing was so much more incredible than he could have imagined, and he was sure his mouth was hanging open like some kind of gawking tourist. Tearing his eyes away from the sight, he hurried up the rest of the stairs to where Elizabeth was talking to a gray-haired man. 

“-only wanted to see Dr. Weir and Dr. McKay,” the man was saying, and then his eyes lit on John like a hawk. “And who the hell are you?”

John had almost stopped breathing when he saw the stars on the man’s shoulders - he was a Major General, and this was so bad, John was so much worse than discharged, he was dead - so it was Elizabeth who spoke up. “He’s Rodney’s new lab assistant,” and her tone was so calm, so self-assured, that the General didn’t even question her, and John slowly felt his heart start beating again. 

“Fine,” the General conceded, shaking his head. “Not like it’s not going to be all over the base, anyway. We received a transmission from Atlantis. They’ve been overrun by Replicators.”

John was dying to demand an explanation but wisely kept his mouth shut; from the grim looks on everyone’s faces, it wasn’t anything good.

“When are we leaving?” Ronon asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group.

“Leaving?” the General demanded. 

“To rescue General O’Neill and Mr. Woolsey,” Teyla added, “and to take Atlantis back from the Asurans.”

“No one’s going anywhere near Atlantis,” the General told her. At the rising protests, he raised a hand and cut off everyone’s voices. “The only thing we’re sending to Atlantis is the _Daedalus_ , with a nuclear bomb. We cannot allow Atlantis, and the gate bridge, to fall into Replicator hands. We’re going to destroy the city.”

* * *

John wasn’t sure who’d shouted louder - McKay, Elizabeth, Teyla, or Ronon - but in the end, it didn’t do any good. The General simply ordered all of them out of the control room with orders not to interfere. John followed the group as they went back to McKay’s lab, McKay glaring at the few scientists inside until they fled, and then slamming the door shut behind them. 

“We cannot allow Atlantis to be destroyed,” Teyla said, as soon as they were alone. 

“Obviously,” McKay snapped, “but I don’t see a way for us to get to Pegasus, do you? What I do see is a whole mountain full of people standing between us and the Stargate.”

“We’ve gone up against worse odds,” Ronon told him, getting a skeptical look from McKay. 

“Are you seriously suggesting we defy orders and take on the entire SGC?” he demanded. 

“I’m suggesting we don’t let our city be overrun by the Asurans,” Ronon snapped back. 

“If we do this,” Elizabeth said, “our careers will be over.”

“I’ve been there,” John spoke up, trying for a nonchalant tone. “It’s not really that bad.”

“We’ll need to get the Jumper,” McKay said, after a long moment. 

“And Dr. Beckett,” Teyla added, “in case General O’Neill, Mr. Woolsey, or any of the Lanteans are injured.”

“Plus, I’ll need him to fly the Jumper while I work on getting us into Atlantis, undetected,” McKay said. “Unless-” His eyes lit up as he looked over at John. “You’re a pilot!”

“Was,” John corrected him. “I was a pilot.”

“You ever fly a spaceship?” McKay asked, and John just about felt his eyes pop out of his head. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, Rodney,” Elizabeth interjected, “are you serious?”

“If we’re about to go haring off to Atlantis, we can’t just leave Sheppard here,” McKay told her. “He’s on the base illegally, with classified information floating around in his head thanks to an Ancient device. We leave him here, someone from the NID, or worse, is going to scoop him up and dump him in a dark hole, somewhere.”

John blinked, and then leaned over to Teyla to whisper, “Is he always such a ray of sunshine?”

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was shaking her head in clear exasperation. “Fine. Sheppard comes with us. Mr. Sheppard, I hope you’re prepared to walk into a war zone.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” John told her.

* * *

John hadn’t thought that anything could be more impressive than the Stargate, but the little ship in front of him was about to prove him wrong. He ran a hand slowly over the silver side of the ship, watching as McKay did something to let down the back hatch. 

“Come on,” McKay said, waving John inside the ship. “I don’t get a lot of time to teach you how to fly the Jumper, so pay attention.”

“I am a pilot, you know,” John reminded him, pointedly. McKay snorted, unimpressed. 

“With planes and helicopters made here on Earth,” he replied. “This is an alien spaceship.”

“And you know how to fly it?” John asked. 

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” McKay said, an insulted tone in his voice. “I’m a decent pilot. I didn’t really have a choice; there aren’t that many people on Atlantis with the gene, and I’m the only one on the team.”

“Well, if we don’t all die, maybe I can be your team’s new pilot,” John offered. 

“Only if you can figure out how to start the Jumper,” McKay shot back. 

“It’s like all those other Ancient gadgets, right?” John asked. “Just think ‘on’?”

McKay just gestured expansively at the dark control panel in front of them, so John put his hands on the panel and concentrated on starting up the Jumper. He could feel a tickle in the back of his mind, similar to what he’d felt with the other Ancient devices, and he focused on the sensation, focused on making it stronger. After a few seconds, he felt the tickled explode, and the control panel lit up in front of his eyes. 

“I did it!”

“Congrats, Sheppard,” McKay said, wryly, “you’ve successfully turned the key in the ignition.”

“Now I just have to put her in gear,” John replied. 

At the sound of footsteps behind them, he tensed up, but McKay didn’t even startle. “It’s just Teyla and Ronon,” he said. “You guys get the guards somewhere they won’t be found for a bit?”

“Storage closet,” Ronon replied. “Weir and Beckett back yet?”

“Just here,” Elizabeth called out, as she and a dark-haired man entered the Jumper. McKay, his hand on the control panel, closed the door behind them. “Dr. Carson Beckett,” Elizabeth went on, “I’d like you to meet John Sheppard, our pilot for this mission.”

“I’d shake your hand,” John offered, “but I don’t really want to take both hands off the wheel until I’m more confident at what I’m doing.”

“Better you than me,” Beckett told him. “I hate flying these contraptions.”

“If we’re all done with the idle chitchat,” McKay broke in, “we need to leave now, before someone catches us and we all get arrested and court-martialed.”

“Right,” John said, and he turned his attention back to flying the Jumper. He had a couple false starts before the Jumper rose into the air to hover above the floor. 

“Move to the right,” McKay told him, quietly, “about three meters. When I say go, you’re going to drop us straight down to line up with the ‘Gate, and then straight forward.”

“And there’s going to be a wormhole for us to go through?” John asked, just as softly. 

“Only one way to fine out,” McKay replied. “Okay, go!”

_‘Down,’_ John told the ship, and they dropped straight through the retracting plates in the floor, ending up in the level beneath them. He could vaguely hear shouting from somewhere outside the ship, but he ignored it in favor of the shimmering field of blue waiting in front of them. Without needing to be prompted, John guided the Jumper carefully into the blue, leaving the mountain behind.   
They emerged at the Midway Station that McKay had told him about, and the other man was already furiously working at his tablet to establish a safe connection for them on the other end. John slumped back in his seat, twisting around to see Elizabeth and Beckett talking quietly at the back of the Jumper, and Ronon leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Teyla, behind him, leaned forward. 

“I imagine this was not what you imagined for yourself this morning,” she said, pitching her voice low so as not to disturb McKay’s concentration.

“Maybe not,” John acknowledged, “but I don’t regret it. I mean, how many other times in my life am I going to get to go on a mission to another galaxy to save an alien city?”

“I am glad to have met you, John Sheppard,” Teyla told him. “If you are half the man Rodney has made you out to be-”

John’s eyebrows flew up toward his hairline. “McKay talks about me?” he asked. He hadn’t even thought he’d made that much of an impact on the man. 

“Rodney claims your link was one-sided,” Teyla replied, “but after he came back from Earth a year ago, he spoke often of a man he’d met, a man he couldn’t stop thinking about. He may not have gotten as much feedback from your link as you did, but I think he felt something from you. Certainly enough to keep you in his thoughts for so long.”

John couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Wow.”

Teyla smiled at him. “Rodney spoke of you with great admiration, and sometimes fondness,” she said. “So, I am glad to have met you, and gladder still to fight beside you.”

“Thanks,” John said. “I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

“Got it!” McKay crowed suddenly, from the co-pilot’s seat. “Look alive, Sheppard, because as soon as we emerge in the ‘Gate Room, you’re going to need to fly us straight out the nearest window.”

“I’m ready,” John told him, turning his attention back to the Jumper controls. “Let’s do this.”

McKay punched something else into his tablet, the ‘Gate in front of them flaring to life. John swallowed, hard, and then flew straight forward into the unknown.

* * *

_**Two Days Later** _

John could see the entire ‘Gate Room from where he was standing outside Elizabeth’s office. There were people moving in a steady stream through the ‘Gate, carrying container after container. Other teams were working on the computer terminals, or fixing the physical damage their abrupt entrance two days earlier had caused. McKay was down in the middle of everything, directing one half of the mess while Major Lorne, military leader of the expedition, directed the other half. Everyone was moving in a wave of coordinated chaos. 

John only hoped he was going to have the chance to be a part of that chaos. 

Inside Elizabeth’s office, Elizabeth was deep in discussion with General O’Neill about the future of the expedition - and John’s place in it. John was trying unobtrusively to listen in, but he also really didn’t want to get caught, so he was stuck awkwardly hovering in a way that he could explain away if O’Neill saw him. 

And speaking of the man in question…

John tried not to jump when O’Neill waved him into the office. Smoothing his suddenly-sweaty palms against his shirt, John slipped into the office. 

“Sheppard,” O’Neill greeted him, impassively. “Dr. Weir and I have been talking about what to do with you.”

John felt his mouth go dry, willed himself not to squirm under O’Neill’s direct gaze. This was almost as bad as going through his court martial. “Yes, sir.”

“I think you should be court-martialed for breaking into Stargate Command,” O’Neill told him. And before John could point out that he’d already been dishonorably discharged, and therefore couldn’t be court-martialed again, O’Neill continued, “Dr. Weir, however, feels that your skills and experience would make you an asset to the expedition.”

O’Neill paused for dramatic effect, and John swore his heart was about to stop beating. 

“Luckily for you,” O’Neill finally went on, “Dr. Weir can be very persuasive.”

John stared at him in shock, pulling in a ragged breath. “Sir?”

“You are now a civilian contractor with the Atlantis expedition,” O’Neill told him. “Officially, you’re a member of McKay’s science team; unofficially, given what I saw of you against the Replicators, I don’t think anyone would mind you working with the military.”

“Thank you, sir,” John said. 

“Now get out of here before I change my mind,” O’Neill ordered, and John didn’t need any further motivation to get the hell out of the office. 

Still in a daze, John wandered down the stairs to the ‘Gate Room, stopping beside McKay who was busy yelling at a pair of shame-faced scientists. When his rampage ended a couple of minutes later, McKay watched as the scientists slunk away before turning to face John. 

“So, how’d it go?” he prompted. “Are they letting you stay, or do I have to smuggle you back into the city in a week with a crappy fake mustache and an assumed name?”

That startled a laugh out of John. “No, I get to stay here without the crappy fake mustache,” he assured McKay. “But thanks for the offer. It means a lot.”

McKay shrugged. “Someone with a brain like yours shouldn’t be working at a coffee shop,” he replied. “Your talent is wasted back on Earth. You belong here in Atlantis.”

John blinked at him, once more stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to say something but apparently McKay wasn’t done. 

“Anyway,” he added, jaw clenching like he was steeling himself to say something, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad you’re here with us. With me.” He looked away then, like he was afraid of seeing John’s reaction. 

John had to swallow, hard, around the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” he added. Looking around at the place that he’d only seen for so long through McKay’s eyes, the place that was already starting to feel like home, he added, “I’m really glad to be finally be here with you.”


End file.
